The Demon and The Queen
by demelzap
Summary: BatistaVictoria. Begins at OVW, follows through to WWE. Content not suitable for minors.
1. Clash

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, do not have permission to use their names.**

**Clash**

Wednesday night. Show long over. Local watering hole. Usually he didn't join the crowd, but tonight was different. Perhaps it was loneliness, or longing. He wasn't quite sure what, but it wasn't enough to make him want to join the crowd. He sat in the shadows nursing a beer. Watching.

Only a few still remained. Basham of course, you couldn't expect him to sit on the sidelines. Cena, Constantino, the Dogg...and the woman. He took another swallow of beer and focused his attention on her.

She had only been down at OVW for a month or so, and already she'd made an impact. She was a hard worker, not afraid to take bumps. Her sparkling eyes, long black hair, softly rounded hips. He closed his eyes. "Stop it," he whispered.

"Hey doll, let me buy you a drink."

His eyes opened at the over-loud, slurred sounding voice. One of the locals hovered over her, standing way too close.

"Lay off," she said, turning her head.

"That ain't no way to treat a fan," the lout persisted. "C'mon _Queen_ Victoria. Let your measly subject buy you a drink."

From where he sat, he could see the man pushing closer to Victoria, rubbing himself against her lewdly.

"I said no," Victoria repeated calmly. She dug into her pocket and flipped some quarters on to the bar next to her. "Now why don't you take yourself off like a good boy and play the jukebox."

"Ahh," the drunkard said, reaching out to close a hand over her hair. "Jukebox isn't warm and willing like you are though." He bent forward and whispered none to softly in her ear, "Can't fuck a jukebox."

His feet hit the floor. Basham should be here looking out for her, but he was off in the corner with some floozy, his back to the room. He prepared to stand, but before he could, Victoria turned toward the man.

"Listen asshole," she said and reached down to close her hand over the man's crotch. She squeezed and the man's eyes got bigger, his mouth opened and he gasped like a fish out of water. She continued in a steady voice, "If you back away right now I won't hurt you. If you're not careful you won't be fucking anything for a while. When I say no, I mean no."

With another squeeze, she pushed the man backwards, and he stumbled to the floor, knocking a barstool over as he fell. The commotion drew the attention of the rest of the patrons, and Basham hurried over to her side.

"What happened?" he asked, gazing down at the man, fists clenched.

"Nothing," Victoria said, turning away. "Go back to your whore."

He sat back, a smile touching his lips. She was fierce. He realized she was the one that had drawn him here, drawn him out of his shell.

The drunkard slunk away, Basham returned to the floozy, and he stood from his table and sauntered toward the bar. He picked up the toppled stool, and sat down next to her. At his nod, the bartender brought him a beer, and another glass of wine for her.

She eyed him for a moment, then murmured, "What do you want?"

He smiled his enigmatic smile again, his voice a soft drawl, "Nothin'. Do you mind if I join you?"

She sighed and pulled the wineglass toward her. "I don't need protection, if that's what you mean."

"I can see that. I wasn't offering protection, just conversation."

Victoria eyed him out of the corner of her eye. Tall, muscular, light gleaming on his shaved head. She'd noticed him before, and deduced that she should just stay out of his path. No one crossed Leviathan, and from what she'd seen, no one talked to him either.

"Conversation?" she asked at last. "You don't strike me as the conversational type."

He smiled, and cocked his head. "Well, what do I strike you as then? Hmmm? A monster?"

She returned the smile and sipped her wine. "Demon of the deep aren't you?"

"Eh," he said, large fist closed around the beer glass, "It's a living. Kind of like you being the Queen."

With a snort she turned her head. "That stops at the arena. Here I'm just Lisa."

"Lisa," he said, turning his head too.

"And what about you? It stop at the arena, or are you still the mysterious demon."

"Dave," he said softly.

She cocked her head to the side and looked at him. "Dave," she repeated. "I thought it was a secret."

"Nah," he shook his head. "JC has this notion that I should practice remaining in character all the time. Says that's what the WWE stars have to do. He's got some notion that will be me someday."

"It will be," she said fervently, and then blushed. "I mean, that's what everyone says."

He shrugged his large shoulders. "Whatever happens, happens. I'm content to stay in the shadows for now."

"I've noticed that," she said softly. "Keep to yourself mostly." She gave a nervous laugh. "I thought I wasn't good enough for you."

He turned toward her, an intense look on his face, "Not that," he said fiercely.

There was an awkward silence, both gazing at one another. At last she slid from the stool and stood.

"Look," she said softly. "I should go before Romeo bulks up for round two."

He nodded, and remained on his barstool.

"I, uh," she said as she flipped her hair over her shoulder. She extended her hand, "I'll see you on Saturday."

He wiped his hand on the leg of his pants, and took hers, holding it for a moment. "Yes, you will."

* * *

St. Therese's gym was always hot. Even in the dead of winter. All those bodies crammed together. Lisa always felt as if the crowd turned into one leering mass of testosterone driven freaks when the Revolution came out. She didn't fear them, but she had to admit that sometimes it made her feel uncomfortable. The set up put them so close she could almost feel them breathing on her as she stood on the apron.

"Coming out for a drink after?" Doug panted as he tagged Damaja in and joined her in the corner.

Damaja walked straight into the massive arm of Leviathan and slammed back on the canvas. Lisa shivered in spite of the heat.

"No, not tonight."

The crowd was loud, so Doug shouted into her ear, "I promise to keep a better eye out this time. Those low-lifes won't fuck with you, I promise."

Her eyes glued to the man she now thought of as "Dave" she shouted back. "Tired. Just going home to a nice hot bath."

Doug shrugged. "Suit yourself."

The match ended with Damaja falling victim to the mighty Demon Bomb. Dave's eyes met Lisa's across the ring as Briscoe counted three.

* * *

It was beginning to sprinkle as Lisa hurried across the parking lot. She hunched over, looking at the ground, and didn't see the figure lurking by her car.

"Hey."

"Fuck," she gasped, looking up and raising her arms in defense.

Dave blinked at her, undeterred. "Spotted your Romeo in the crowd, and I know you don't _need_ protection, but I came anyway."

"Dear god Dave," she said, lowering her arms. "You startled me."

"Just like he would have if I didn't get here first," he replied, looking over his shoulder at the man skulking away at the edge of the parking lot.

"Shit," Lisa said, digging out her keys with shaking hands. "Thanks Dave. I'm not usually so oblivious."

"I know," he said with a shrug, standing back away from her car.

She unlocked the door, then looked up, blinking as the rain fell into her eyes. "Need a lift?"

"Actually, I drove over with BJ. He and Damien are headed out for a drink, and I was thinking of just going home. So, if you don't mind..."

"Not at all," she said, shaking off the last of the nervousness. "Just tell me where to."

He rounded the end of the car, tossed his bag into the backseat and climbed in the passenger side. "Head down Bardstown Road. It's close to the mall."

After a few minutes of small talk about the show, they drove in silence, the wipers making a squishing sound on the windshield. Lisa pulled up to a stop and snapped the ignition off.

At last Dave said softly, "Still lost in thought?"

"Hmmm?" Lisa responded vaguely.

"Unless I miss my guess, this is your place."

"Oh," she gasped, hand flying to her mouth. "It is." She turned to look at him, her blush covered by the dark. "I'm sorry."

Before she could start the car again, Dave reached over and put his hand over hers on the key. "Did you...drive here for a reason?"

"No," she said, flustered. "It's like you said, I'm still lost in thought. I -- it will take me five minutes to drive you back."

He inched closer to the edge of his seat, leaning over so that his cheek pressed close to hers. "Care to tell me what you were thinking about?"

She made a strangled sound and shook her head.

"Was it the same thing I was thinking about perhaps?"

The very air in the small car was charged. She whispered, "I...don't know..."

"I was thinking about black hair fanned out on a pillow, and soft moans that rise to a crescendo. I was thinking about how it's been a long time, and how hungry I've become." His fingers caressed the back of her hand gently. "I was thinking about you...under me."

Lisa closed her eyes and sagged back against her seat, barely breathing.

Dave continued the caress up her arm, leaning back so that his cheek was pressed against hers again.

"I'm not like that lowlife in the bar though, so if this isn't what you were thinking, then tell me now. No hard feelings. I'll get out and walk home, none the wiser."

"No," she said, her voice a bare whisper. "I..._was_ thinking that. Not with quite the same flowery language you used. I was thinking of you...fucking me."

His nose edged along her cheek, breathing in the scent of her. His lips caressed the shell of her ear. "Fucking," he whispered.

Her shaking hands were steadied by his. Clothing removed, lights kept dim. Soon she was sprawled across the bed, midnight dark hair fanned out on the pillow, lips parted, neck arched up in need. Gently, he covered her, fitting the lower half of his body in the cradle of her legs. A large hand smoothed against her brow. Tender lips touched her brow, her cheekbone, and the curve of her neck.

"Dave," she whispered breathlessly, "I'm not porcelain, I won't break."

"I know," he whispered back.

Still he moved slowly, gentle hands that belied the fierceness of his outward exterior. He shifted to the side, one leg still between hers, pinning her to the mattress.

His fingers slipped from her face, over the arch of her neck. She gasped when he flicked them across her nipple, and bowed off the bed toward him. He continued down over the gentle curve of her belly and teased against the nest of curls at her center.

Soft moans, her own hands gripped in the covers. He pressed his lips against the taut nipple in a gentle kiss.

"Dave...god...please..."

Her voice trailed away in a gasp when he slid his fingers lower, down to dip in the well of her juices, up to find the nub of her clit. Just as he found it he opened his mouth, the stud in his tongue pressing against the tip of her breast.

For a moment she was frozen, and then in a flash a small orgasm rippled through her, so intense was the dual sensation. Slowly, he stroked her with both thumb and forefinger. He opened his mouth wider, taking more of the mound of her breast.

Her body stiffened as she worked hard to hold herself back from the full explosion she knew was waiting. She concentrated on the feel of him, on the smell of his heightening arousal. She stirred restlessly against the covers, legs widening, silently urging him.

When he drew his fingers away, she whimpered. "Shh," he soothed, rising up to kneel between her legs.

She caught her lower lip between her teeth as she gazed up at him. The fiery sunburst around his navel, the light in the hallway playing over the dragon on his upper arm. His eyes half closed, watching as she studied him, a shiver when her eyes trailed down to rest on his erection, almost as if she were touching him instead of just looking. It twitched against his belly.

Without urging, she raised her knees, spreading herself before him. He moved with liquid grace, guiding himself to her. Her gasp caught in her throat as he began to fill her.

One hand searched for and found hers, prying it from the covers, gripping it tightly. The other cradled the back of her head. He held himself still, feeling her inner passage flutter around him, adjust to him.

The gasp released when he began to move. Slowly at first, building up momentum. She wrapped her legs around him, rocking up against him.

His lips curved back in a near snarl as the climax neared. Her moans intensified until at last she squeezed his hand, rolled her head back on the pillow and nearly screamed. He stilled momentarily, letting the release course through her, letting her feel it completely.

When he sensed her body relaxing, he let go of her hand, propping himself up over her, and began to slam into her the way he knew she had wanted from the beginning. Deep thrusts, his body slapping against hers.

His release matched hers in intensity, powerful hips stilled for the barest moment, filling her with his seed. Then he pumped against her again, slowing until he finally stopped. His brow dipped against hers.

Outside the rain had increased, they heard it against the window. He rolled to the side, slipping out of her, pulling her against him, and wrapping his arms around her.

"That was..." she said softly.

"Amazing," he finished her thought.

"Yeah."

She settled back against him, pulled his hand up to rest against her chest, her lips pressed against the back of it. They remained curled together, dozing, listening to the rain, touching.

After a while he got up and dressed. He perched on the edge of the bed and pulled her up into his strong arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Next time," he said softly.

"Soon," she replied, pushing up to kiss him.

* * *

Wednesday night. Lisa sat at the bar, nursing a glass of wine. It was the same as usual, the same people. Doug had long since given up on trying to drag her into a game of pool.

"Hey doll, let me buy you a drink."

"Listen asshole," she said, the words dying in her mouth when she turned.

He smiled a lopsided smile at her.

"You devil," she whispered softly.

"Demon," Dave countered. He reached for her hand.

She slipped from the barstool and took his hand, following him to the door. They slipped out unnoticed.

* * *

Weeks slipped into months, Dave and Lisa slipped into an easy routine. Wednesdays and Saturdays always, the odd day here and there for good measure. Comfortable. On the outside nothing was changed, but inside they both looked forward to their trysts.

Rain gave way to sultry heat. Lisa reclined on the bed filing her nails while Dave finished up in the shower. She still sucked in her breath when he emerged from her bathroom, naked and faintly gleaming.

"That's a pretty picture," he murmured softly, advancing toward her.

She smiled up at him and set the nail file aside.

"You're not too bad yourself," she said, settling back against the pile of pillows.

"Not pretty," he said, climbing up, covering her with his weight.

"Oh, I don't know," she said as she reached up to smooth her hands over his bald head. "Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder."

He moved forward, lips brushing over hers, "You're good for me Lise," he said softly.

Her response was a moan, followed by a deep kiss.

He always started with a kiss, the cool steel tongue stud sliding over the inside of her mouth. The kiss continued along the curve of her jaw, over her pulse point, down to tease along her clavicle. He made her feel so special because he took his time this way, exploring her body with delight as if seeing it, tasting it for the first time.

Her hands cupped the back of his head as he slid lower, and teased at her nipples.

"Mmmm, so good Dave..." she whispered.

Today he didn't linger, but moved lower, trailing wet kisses down over her belly button. Her legs widened and he settled between them. Hands cupping her hips, he ran just the tip of his tongue down her slit.

She rested her heels on his shoulders, her fingers still idly playing over the back of his neck. When he closed his mouth over her more firmly, she gasped and her hands fell back on to the bed.

The stud pressed against her clit always started the fire burning low in the pit of her belly. Wordless moans, it was difficult to keep her eyes open, but she always tried. She was enthralled by the expressions crossing his features.

"N-n-need you...please..." she murmured.

He raised his head, tongue still pressed against her intimately. She gasped when he winked, and her head fell back against the pillow. As much as she loved the feel of his enormous cock filling her, the times when he pleasured her with his mouth alone brought the most earth-shattering orgasms.

Tongue pressed along her perineum, teasing against her ass. Muscles tightened in her belly, her hands clenched in the coverlet. He moved up, flicking the tight bud of her clit with his tongue.

One finger dipped inside of her, he gently nipped at her clit. She arched off the bed, the fire in her belly leaped higher. Another finger joined the first, and another. Not quite the same fullness as his shaft, but coupled with the electric sensation of his tongue she felt the release nearing, but held it back with an effort.

Without breaking the rhythm of fingers and tongue, he groped for her hand, guided it up to her breast. She moaned again, and her fingers teased at her nipple, and that just heightened the overall sensation.

Four fingers now pressed deeply inside her. He pulled back long enough to breathe over her, "Come Lise...come for me now..."

A hard pinch to her nipple, her head arched back, the cry long and keening as she came. He groaned against her, feeling the wild fluttering around his fingers, under his tongue. He slipped his fingers out, and cupped her against the palm of his hand, letting the orgasm ride out.

Slowly he slid up her body, buried his face in the fragrant mass of her hair, and held her while she came back to earth. Finally she turned toward him, bent closer and tasted herself on his lips, and whispered.

"Intense..."

"So I've been told," he said with a smile.

She rose up and straddled him, her hands playing up over his chest, down over muscled arms. His eyes narrowed as he gazed up at her, at her pert breasts peeking out between the inky blackness of her hair.

"Turnabout is fair play," she whispered mischievously.

A low groan was the response. She slid down and parted his legs.

Smooth, everything smooth and hairless. A near daily ritual that he kept up. She tongued the smooth globes of his sack while reaching up to close her hand around his erection. She stroked slowly, working the foreskin back. Her tongue trailed lower, over perineum, along the crack of his ass. His hand tightened in her hair.

While she continued to stroke along his shaft, peel the foreskin back farther, she pressed her tongue against his opening. He groaned again, his hand still tight in her hair. Her tongue dipped in a little.

"Fuck," he moaned, but made no move to stop her actions.

Fully slicking him with saliva, she raised her other hand a slipped a finger inside his ass. His hand dropped away from her hair and he gripped the coverlet tightly, muscles rippling in his abdomen.

She rose up then, took the tip of his cock in her mouth while she rocked the finger in past tight muscles. As she dipped down lower, the muscles began to relax.

Her mouth dipped halfway, then back up again, tongue teasing the ridged head. She rocked her finger, finding the bulge of his prostate. He bucked up slightly, driving a bit deeper into her mouth. She moaned against him.

She began to bob her head faster, grazing lightly with her teeth, never quite able to take him all the way down into her throat. Her thumb braced against his sack, she felt the beginning of his release before it exploded into her mouth.

His cry filled the room, warm cum filled her mouth, the muscles of his ass gripped her tightly. She managed to swallow it all. When he regained himself he gripped her arms and hauled her up. His mouth covered hers fiercely, arms gripped her tightly.

When the tremors left his body, she settled against him, her cheek pressed against his chest, hand cupping his belly. He tucked one arm around her, his hand rested against her ass.

"Dave," she whispered softly.

"Mmmm," he responded, giving her hip a light squeeze.

"Sleepy?"

"No...not yet. You?"

"No," she said, smiling against his nipple. He was the only man she knew who laid awake after, engaging in sleepy pillow talk. It made her feel warm inside. "Can I...ask you a question?"

He curled down and kissed the top of her head. "You know you can ask me anything Lise," he murmured.

"Even a personal question?"

"As long as I reserve the right to ask one in return," he chuckled.

She reached down and toyed with the ring through his belly button. "Of course, I'll tell you anything."

He raised his hand and gathered a strand of her hair, rubbing it through his fingers. "What do you want to know?"

She was silent at first, and at last she whispered, "Have you ever...been with a man?"

He squeezed the strand of hair tightly, "Had sex with you mean?"

She nodded, suddenly shy.

He dropped the strand of hair and tipped her chin up so that they were gazing into each other's eyes. "I have."

"Did you..." her voice trailed off.

"Did I like it?" he asked.

She bit her lower lip between her teeth and nodded.

He seemed to consider for a moment then said, "Yes. For different reasons, but yes."

Emboldened, she slid up so that she faced him, her face on the pillow next to his. "How is it different?"

"Hmmm," he seemed to take a moment to consider. "There's an urgency, immediacy...brutality that I like. I crave it sometimes actually. Sometimes the dance in the ring becomes foreplay, a quick fuck after seems the natural progression of things."

"And you...can't have that immediacy...brutality as you call it, with a woman?"

He smiled. "I could, but it isn't what I want all the time, not even most of the time. With you I crave the fine balance. Soft and gentle, giving way to baser instincts when the situation warrants."

"I bet," she said, blushing a little, "You could have those things with a man too."

"If I wanted," he replied.

She moved forward and kissed him softly.

"What about you?" he asked.

"Have I been with a woman?" Her brow arched. "Yes, once."

"Well, what do you think then...how was it different?" He caressed the side of her face with his thumb.

"Softer, gentler," she whispered. "I...didn't like it as much."

"Why not?" He pressed his lips against her brow.

"Because I didn't feel it the same. It was enjoyable, but not something I prefer."

They fell into silence then, legs tangled together, drifting into a doze.

"How long," she whispered at last, "Do you think this will last?"

"I think," he said softly, "For a very long time."

"Me too."

No boundaries set, no promises made, none needed.

_Distribution: TwoIntoOne only._


	2. Blue Christmas

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, do not have permission to use their names.**

**Blue Christmas**

Soft leather, lined with cashmere. Dave fingered the gloves, closed his eyes and tried to imagine the joy on her face when she saw them. It wouldn't come, the joy. All he could see was the accusations, the face twisted with anger, the petulant lips that refused to touch his again. His brow furrowed in concentration.

"Dave?"

He smelled her perfume, and knew it was Lisa who spoke before he even opened his eyes. He flushed slightly at the intrusion on his pain. Before he could speak, she continued.

"Last minute shopping too?" she asked with a smile.

His voice was gravelly, "Something like that." He forced a smile, the gloves still in his hand. "Or an escape from boredom."

Her silvery laugh washed over him, "You? Bored? How could you be bored with the company you keep? Doesn't Ric keep you supplied with a laugh a minute?" She stepped closer conspiratorially, lowered her voice to a whisper, "Are you saying you're tired of hearing about the making of the Game?"

He chuckled in spite of himself, "You're as naughty as you ever were."

"Some things never change," she informed him. Her eyes strayed down to the gloves in his hand. "Those are gorgeous," she paused then looked up at him through her lashes, "I bet they'd keep hands warm on a cold day in Virginia."

A muscle tensed in his jaw, and he nodded, set them back on the display. He looked at his watch as she picked the gloves up, tried one on.

"Mmmm," her eyes closed, a dreamy look covered her features. "These i _are_ /i warm."

"Were you here doing last minute shopping, or shopping for yourself Ms Vixen," he asked playfully.

She peeled the gloves off, and set them back on the display. "Shopping for family," she said with a grimace. "I know better than to buy extravagant things for myself."

He grunted, picked the gloves up again and headed to the counter to purchase them. Lisa browsed behind him, watching as he bantered with the clerk. When he rejoined her he arched a brow and said,

"Do you have time for a coffee?"

"I thought you'd never ask," she said with a warm smile.

The air outside was crisp, and the sun shone brightly. The found a table on the edge of the outdoor eating area, sipped their coffee in silence for a time. At last, she set her cup down and leaned back in her chair, studying him.

"Seems like a hundred years ago since we were back in Louisville," she said softly.

He hunched forward, his arms resting on the edge of the table. "Seems like a hundred years, but if we went back it would be like nothing ever changed. Class, watching tapes, shows, watching Cornette explode on a daily basis."

"Good times," she said softly. "The routine was good, the camaraderie was better."

"You miss those days?" he asked softly. He set his empty cup on the table, and folded his hands together, still leaning toward her.

"Certain parts," she replied coyly.

Idly he rubbed his thumb over the fingers of his left hand. The ring had left a ridge, a patch that was sensitive to the touch yet. She watched him, trying to read the emotions on his face.

"What happened?" she said at last.

He seemed almost startled as he looked up, pulled his hands apart almost guiltily.

"Come on Dave," she chided him. "This is Lisa you're talking to. Don't try to hide it from me, something's changed."

After leaving OVW they'd grown apart. It wasn't a bitter breakup, more something that they both acknowledged was the way things were. Theirs was a transient life, you came and went, took pleasure where you could, and didn't mourn the loss when it was gone. That he'd succumbed and found someone outside the industry to fall in love with had been his curse. He knew Lisa had too, and that it had ended in equal despair.

"I don't," he said, "Can't talk about it."

"I understand Dave," she said, moved closer and laid her hands over his. "You know it's not gloating, or morbid curiosity. It's just me, someone who cared about you very deeply once. And," she continued softly, "Still does care about you."

He unloosed his hands, and took her hands in his. His guard dropped momentarily so she could see the pain in his eyes. "Too much, not enough." He shrugged. "It's hard to keep things going when one of you is not around all the time."

She bit her lip and nodded. "It's hard," she said, "When someone wants. Needs."

"I need," he said so softly she almost didn't hear.

"We all need," she whispered. She bent closer, her lips just barely brushing his.

"I can't Lise," he groaned. "I can't expect things from you because of what we shared in the past."

"You can Dave," she replied. Her forehead rested against his. "Not for old time's sake, but simply because there's a part of my heart that will always be yours. A part that makes no demands, that has no expectations. A part that longs for you." She paused, then whispered, "A part that needs."

His hands tightened on hers. She brushed her lips over his cheek, breathed in the scent of his cologne.

"Lise..."

Together they walked the short distance back to the hotel. There was no awkwardness between them, it was almost as if they'd peeled back time and were once again as they had been so many years ago. He took her to his room.

Coats were shed, and then slowly articles of clothing. Each touch elicited a moan, each kiss a shiver. He sat on the edge of the bed, and she straddled him. She stroked him as he rained kisses over her breasts, tangled his fingers in her hair. When she settled over him he groaned, gripped her hips tightly and held her against him. Without dislodging himself, he flipped her around on her back, thrust into her slowly at first, building to a wild crescendo. One that ended in a white-hot conflagration.

"This," she said breathlessly as she curled against him trembling, "Is what I miss the most."

His arms wrapped tightly around her, he nuzzled against her mouth, "What's that?"

She slid against him, tipped her head back and looked up at him. "The aftermath."

He chuckled. "There's plenty more where this came from."

As much as they both wanted to stay wrapped together, rekindle the fires, there was a show that night. After they were dressed again, he handed her the bag containing the gloves.

"Happy Christmas Lisa."

"Oh Dave," she smiled happily, raised up to kiss him again. "Thank you."

_Distribution: TwoIntoOne only_


End file.
